


Albus Severus Potter and the Shadow Creatures

by JoanneMacarania



Series: Albus Severus Potter's Hogwarts Years [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Department of Mysteries, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Mysteries, Slytherin Albus Severus Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-17 00:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12353769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoanneMacarania/pseuds/JoanneMacarania
Summary: Albus Severus Potter can't wait to go to Hogwarts, along with his cousin Rose Weasley. But when the worst happens, and he gets Sorted into Slytherin, it seems that everything is taking a turn for the worst. Slytherin House is scary and foreign, and Rose is his only ally.But then he accidentally makes a few friends, and gets embroiled in a mystery that leads into a fight against creatures even worse than Dementors. Flying lessons, shadow creatures, and mysterious attacks all abound in Albus Potter's first year at Hogwarts, which gives his father's Hogwarts career a run for his money.





	1. 1. Road to Hogwarts

Long before the menace known as the darkest wizard in history was finally killed by a boy of seventeen years, the shadows had been stirring.  


Ignored by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who sought out allies in greedy, corrupt wizards and giants and dementors, they had bidden their time, waiting for the perfect moment to fully awaken and invade the world of the living.  


Little did they know that their awakening would be brought about during the time of a new generation of wizards, one who would be their bane and enemy. Yet when sacred blood had finally spilled, and the enchantments binding them and restraining their powers, it seemed like the time of the shadow creatures had finally come about.  


We will strike the weak first, and make our way to the strong. We will corrupt the innocent, and possess the good. The time of reckoning has come…  


Ω  


“Are you sure?” was the only thing the shadowed blond man could say.  


There were no other words, no other thoughts. Just pure shock, disbelief, and uncertainty. This couldn’t possibly be happening, could it? It was impossible. Preposterous. Especially about the location! No, there was nothing really to say. Not when you were an unmarried, single bitter man who had never really known love or family, and just found out that you had a long-lost son who lived in the East End of London.  


“Of course, sir. We would not have brought you here all this way if there was but a shadow of a doubt. Read the letter yourself once more, if you remain unconvinced. But I have heard reports of this child – and he is, according to eyewitnesses, a spitting image of you. What more proof or certainty do you need?”  


Unwilling to answer the older man, his face tightened with anger and many other more confusing emotions. He did not like people in general, especially people like the one standing beside him right now. He especially did not like people telling him something that tilted his world on his axis, and insisted on remaining close to him at all times. Draco Malfoy was not a people person at all, and this particular person, doing this particular task, was almost enough to send him over the edge.  


Deep breaths. Composure. Deep breaths. No feelings…  


Draco Malfoy was not a people person – but he did know how to mask his emotions, or at least fake them for a little while. This last thought sparked memories best forgotten, and his left arm twitched with phantom pain, so he turned his thoughts elsewhere. To his son.  


He had a son – a ten-year-old son, according to this overly pompous Ministry official. A son he had never known about, never particularly wanted. A son he was to meet today. Suddenly the office in the midst of Muggle London was cramped, claustrophobic, the walls closing in on him.  


“The letter?” he said, and remembering to be polite, added, “please?”  


It was a Hogwarts letter, much like the one he had received about sixteen years ago. The name on the envelope was one that Draco had wanted to name his son, if he should ever have one. Scorpius Malfoy. Somehow, the school had known the name, along with the student. The Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance.  


There was no other way about it – he had a son, and for 11 years he had been raised as a Muggle. Life just had to keep getting worse, didn’t it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! So, this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction... I had this idea for the next generation of Potters, Malfoys, and Weasleys, and it wouldn't let go until I started writing. Therefore, I would love to have feedback on this story - so comments are really appreciated! Thank you! Hope you enjoy the story... :)


	2. Hogwarts Letter

“I’m really at a loss here, Ginny. All of these attacks, clearly made using dark magic, seem without rhyme or reason, and don’t seem to stop. We have no idea what or who they’re caused by, and no closer to stopping them.”  


Sitting at the table, feeling rather sad and gloomy, Albus sighed as he eavesdropped on his parents talking about the recent deluge of terrible attacks. It was all what everyone was talking about – the newspapers, friends of James that popped in every few days, Rose in her letters, and mum and dad. Especially dad.  


As he was Head Auror at the Ministry, and given his past of fighting the Dark Arts, he more than anyone wanted the bastards responsible caught and sent to Azkaban.  


“I know you’ll find those responsible,” mum answered, and came out of the kitchen. “Albus! I didn’t see you there!” Dad joined her, looking grim.  


He kept silent, and swung his legs back and forth. It had been one full day since his birthday, and still no letter in sight. Rose, of course, had sent an owl as soon as she had received hers, which had been on her birthday two months ago.  


Albus didn’t know what he dreaded the most – not getting a letter, or going to Hogwarts and getting sorted into Slytherin.  


“Albus! Albus! Look! Look!” Lily came barging down the stairs, shouting with glee. She waved a letter that was still attached to its owl, who was fluttering with every move of her hand. “It’s for you! It’s your letter!”  


“What? Give it!” Albus shouted, jumping up and snatching the yellow-parchment letter. The owl gave an indignant hoot as he was dragged through the air. Hands shaking, he read the green writing addressed to Albus Severus Potter, number 12 Grimauld Place. Quickly Albus untied the owl and ran upstairs to his room, ignoring the excited gasps of his parents.  


Running inside his dim room and closing the door, he crashed onto his bed and finally opened his letter. He wanted to be alone when he did it. Thankfully, James wasn’t here today, so he’d be in peace until the next day.  


Hands trembling, he broke the red seal and took out his acceptance letter and book list. He quickly read over the words of Headmistress McGonagall, and then looked at the books he’d have to buy. There were a lot of books geared toward protection against the Dark Arts – Albus wondered who would be their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and how they were planning on teaching the class. As the second son of Harry Potter, he knew all about the dangers that were in the outside world, and how important it was to be able to defend oneself against these dangers. And he’d heard all about the disjointed schooling both his parents and grandparents had had in that subject. Thankfully, it would not happen to his generation, as the old DADA teacher had retired after 8 years of teaching.  


Flopping back onto the bed, Albus was slightly relieved to know he was going to Hogwarts – but the fear of being sorted into Slytherin was stronger than ever. Knowing there was nothing he could do about it for now, he went to his desk and started feverishly penning a letter to Rose, excited about going shopping for school supplies and finally attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  


Dinner that night was uncommonly joyful, and mum had even made his favourite dessert – treacle tart. His enjoyment increased even more when Rose stepped from the Floo, saying that Hugo was going on an outing with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione to console him about not going to Hogwarts yet, and that she would be sleeping over tonight.  


“They should have taken Lily too,” Albus said after they’d all finished eating, pointing at Lily, who was the only one in a melancholy mood.  


“It’s only two years,” Rose replied, “and she might enjoy being the only child for a while. But I’ll ask mum and dad anyhow to take her out tomorrow or something. Oh, Al, I’m so excited!!!”  


Albus was too, fear over the Sorting aside. But as he and Rose retreated to his room, and played a few Muggle board games Aunt Hermione had given them as presents, he noticed that Rose, who was always bubbly and talking about the latest book she’d read, was uncharacteristically silent.  


“What’s wrong?” Albus asked gently. Though he and Rose were completely different in temperament, and had different interests, they were as thick as thieves, and complemented each other. He could tell her anything, and knew that she wouldn’t laugh, and she could do the same.  


“I’m not worried about the Sorting, not like you are, and I’m quite excited to finally be going to Hogwarts… But – I’m worried that they’re only going to see mum and dad, and not me!” she exclaimed, saying the last part very quickly.  


Suddenly, Albus understood. Apart from the faulty eyesight, he was the carbon copy of his dad. Whenever they were in Diagon Alley, or anywhere else in the Wizarding World, people took one look at him and he immediately became ‘Harry Potter’s Second Son,’ the one who looked exactly like him. He was never just Al, but always ‘Harry Potter’s son,’ and it didn’t help that his name was comprised of two extremely famous and brave Headmasters. He and Rose, they had to live up to quite a bit. James, of course, didn’t look exactly like dad, but they had the same personality, and he was a Quidditch Player and Dueling Club champion, and had carved out a place at Hogwarts for himself.  


But Albus wasn’t boisterous and confident, and he knew that everyone would be looking at him, seeing if he could measure up to his family. For Rose, it was about the same thing. She was always ‘just like Hermione Granger,’ and never just Rose Weasley. He had no doubt that Rose would prove herself, in time, unlike him, but it was hard when people tailored their actions because their parents were famous. There were those that fawned over them, and those that hated them for the exact same thing. They were never just Rose Weasley and Albus Potter, and that was hard. At Hogwarts, it would be even worse.  


Albus hugged Rose, giving her what comfort he took and knowing that she knew he understood her.  


“Don’t worry,” he told her. “You’ll make your mark soon enough, and though you’ll probably always be ‘Hermione Granger’s daughter,’ you’ll still do great things and end up famous for your own achievements one day.”  


“Thanks,” she said softly, recognizing what he had omitted. “So will you. You’ll see. And I know that you’re afraid you’ll be sorted into Slytherin. But I have faith in you, okay? You’ll be in Gryffindor, or even Ravenclaw – but let me tell you something, Albus Severus Potter. Even if you somehow end up in Slytherin for whatever reason, you’ll still be my favourite cousin, and I’ll still be your friend. So you’ll get Sorted, and make tons of new friends – or at least a few good ones – and you’ll flourish in your favourite subjects, but we’ll still be ‘Rose and Albus.’ I promise.”  


Albus nodded, still scared but comforted by her words. He doubted he would make many friends and flourish at school, but at least he’d have Rose, who took his side against James and his friends, and even against mum and dad too, sometimes.  


That night, as he went to sleep, he dreamed about the majestic castle he’d heard so much about, and wished that he would at least make one good friend.


	3. Sorting

Though Albus was certain that Scorpius Malfoy would never be his friend, for he was a Malfoy and Malfoys did not befriend Potters, he was also the only person in Hogwarts apart from Rose that he could tolerate.  


After getting onto the Hogwarts Express, and finding an empty compartment with just him and Rose, Albus replayed his father’s words over and over. They made him feel a bit better, knowing he could choose where to go, but he knew in his bones that both mum and dad would hate it if he were in Slytherin.  


They talked a bit, both nervous and trying to hide it, and after a while Rose pulled out a book. It was about insanely complicated charms that a first-year definitely couldn’t do, but Albus was the only one who knew the title was just a front. Somehow, Rose had figured out how to put a low-level glamour on books and hide the true content, stealing her mum’s wand one day to do it. Instead of reading about charms, which Rose did know about, she would read about dragons. Even though the texts she would get from Uncle Charlie secretly were rather illegal.  


Albus didn’t bother asking about the whole subterfuge, because Rose never asked when he would read books that weren’t appropriate for young children – Muggle books about true crime that Aunt Hermione would give him, and musty old texts about interesting potions.  


He was too nervous to read about potions that were very complicated and seemed quite Dark right now, so he stared at the window and daydreamed. He was in the middle of imagining an exhilarating chase scene with difficult broom manoeuvres when the door of the compartment clacked open.  


“‘Scuse me? Mind if I be sittin’ here?” said a voice, with an incredibly thick accent Albus had never heard before.  


He turned around, and Rose lowered her book, and they both realized that it was a Malfoy. The Malfoy they’d seen on the platform, who now looked around warily and clutched his trunk rather possessively.  


Looking at one another, Rose tightened her lips, and looked at Malfoy again. “No, we don’t mind. There’s plenty of space,” Rose said, though Albus knew her well enough that she would mind quite a bit. But that was Rose for you – always unfailingly polite unless they insulted family, and willing to be civil as long as you were civil back.  


“Thanks,” he muttered, and walked inside the compartment slowly. He closed the door, cracked his fingers, and suddenly swung his entire trunk onto the rack above.  


Albus gaped at him. Trunks were heavy, even if they had featherlight charms on them! It had taken the combined effort of him and Rose to hoist up their trunks, and here he’d done it in one go, looking as though it was nothing! And he was a Malfoy, who were notorious but still rather rich, and he would definitely have filled his trunk to the brim with things!  


Malfoy noticed them looking, and became even more defensive. But instead of saying anything, he sat down, and pulled out a battered paperback book. Albus couldn’t make out the title, and neither could Rose, so when they’d both sat down and waited a few minutes, Rose enquired as to what he was reading.  


She was always like that, always wanting to know what people were reading, and talking with them about their reading choice.  


Malfoy lowered his book, scowling, but answered after a lengthy pause. “To Kill a Mockingbird,” he said in a monotonous voice. “It’s good.”  


With that, Rose narrowed her eyes in confusion. “By Harper Lee?”  


“Yeah. Who else?” he responded, even more defensive.  


Instead of pointing out the obvious – that a Malfoy, whom they’d both heard a lot about, was reading a Muggle classic about discrimination (Aunt Hermione had made all of them read it, and had talked about it for hours on end) – Rose settled down and began an intense discussion about said book.  


Reluctantly, he began to answer her queries, dragged into an almost-argument against his will. Al just observed all of that with disbelief. This did not compute with what he’d heard about the Malfoys.  


This lasted for quite a while, and when it finally petered out, Malfoy cleared his throat and spoke once more.  


“Ya know, when I generally discuss books with people, I like to know their names…”  


With that Albus was truly shocked into speechlessness. With one look at him, anyone from the Wizarding world of Britain, at least, was able to say with certainty that he was Harry Potter’s son – and some even knew his name already. The way Malfoy said it, it was like he didn’t even know who Harry Potter was, which was completely ludicrous.  


Rose seemed to be in the same boat, and Malfoy noticed, and raised an eyebrow sardonically. “It’s not rocket science, givin’ your name. Know what? I’ll go first. I’m Ra – Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy. I reckon you already know the last name, ‘cause Dra – Father says that most everyone knows the Malfoy name, and they say I’m like a carbon copy of him. Of Father. Now, what’s yours?”  


Rose lifted an eyebrow herself at the mention of rocket science – it was part of a Muggle expression Aunt Hermione always said, though Al had no idea what that meant – and cleared her throat.  


“Rose. Rose Weasley.”  


“Rose, eh? Nice name. Better than Lothaire, which’s a name I heard while gettin’ on the train. You?”  


“Al. Albus.” He didn’t say his last name, thinking it pointing out the obvious. Malfoy noticed the omission, and looked intrigued, which was better than the scowl he’d had earlier.  


“Know how we’re gettin’ Sorted? ‘Cause Father refused to tell, said it was a secret, tradition.”  


With that Rose launched into another discussion, centered around Hogwarts: A History – the Updated Version, which had been co-written with Aunt Hermione, and this time Al found himself participating, since he had read the book at least once. It was inescapable if your cousin was Rose Weasley.  


They talked and talked, and though Malfoy didn’t say too much, he still spoke and gave his opinion, often in a sarcastic tone and botching the pronunciation of quite a few words, and before he knew it the sky outside was dark and a voice announced they would be arriving soon.  


“Oh no!” Rose exclaimed. She had wanted to change early on in the trip, and had forgotten after Malfoy had wandered in. She went to the bathroom to change, and Al quickly put on his new school robes, wondering what crest he would have on them by tomorrow.  


Something was weird, though. Malfoy seemed hesitant to change. Al would have chalked it up to prudishness, but mum had said that a lot of traditional pure-blooded families, especially the ones that had followed Lord Voldemort, weren’t prudish about things like that. It was only when Al turned toward the window, making sure to look at the seat and not Malfoy’s reflection, that the other boy started to change really quickly, clothes rustling as he put on his robes too.  


By the time they’d both finished changing, Rose had come back, and they all were visibly nervous. Malfoy kept twisting a ring on his left hand that seemed to have the Malfoy crest, and Rose fidgeted with Complex Elemental Charms for the Indubitable Charmers. No one said anything, and Al could feel the nausea rising.  


Finally, the Hogwarts Express screeched to a stop, and they filed out of the train without speaking. Hagrid greeted them on the platform, and Al followed the bobbing lantern along with everybody, grateful to see a familiar face. Rose, him and Malfoy were in the same boat, with a dark-haired girl that seemed to come from another of those pureblood families that mum and dad always warned him about. She didn’t say anything, however, just looking nervous and anticipatory like a normal 11-year old witch.  


Al gasped along with everyone else at the sight of Hogwarts, and Malfoy sucked in a startled breath. Once at the castle, they were greeted by Professor Longbottom, who was Head of Gryffindor, and he led them to a small room where they would wait for the Sorting. Al just had the time to wave a little bit before Professor Longbottom left.  


Rose and Al grouped together with Malfoy again, who was looking rather pale – even paler than usual. He kept on clenching and unclenching his fists, and muttered something under his breath. He kept on doing so until Professor Longbottom came back for them, and only entering the Great Hall was able to startle him out of his nervous behaviour.  


They walked side by side, Malfoy’s eyes impossibly wide. “This a school?” he whispered to Albus incredulously, and Al answered with an almost-chuckle. He was a Malfoy, but not once he’d asked about dad, or even mum, or how he would manage to follow his brother’s footsteps at Hogwarts, and he seemed intelligent and observant, which was quite a rare quality in a person their age.  


The wait for the roll call was the worst, though he wasn’t surprised when Malfoy was immediately Sorted into Slytherin. Albus kept on glancing at their table, where the students were the most subdued and looked rather grim, compared to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables where all his extended family waved to him enthusiastically (except James, because he was busy semi-quietly showing off to his friends).  


“Potter, Albus!” Professor Longbottom called out, and Al’s stomach dropped out. The whispering started immediately, spreading like wildfire, and with every step towards the hat his dread grew. Finally, he put the Sorting hat on, where its voice seemed menacing to his fear-stricken mind.  


What do we have here? The hat said. Another Potter! Why, what a mind! Very intelligent, with a willingness to learn more knowledge… But what do we have here? Goals and hopes, wanting to prove oneself, the ability to redirect conversations… And before Albus could say anything, tell the hat anything but Slytherin, the Sorting hat said, Better be…  


“SLYTHERIN!”


	4. Slytherin House

This was officially the worst day in the life of Albus Severus Potter.

He was in Slytherin, which had made everyone in his family but Rose shocked into silence (they refused to look at him throughout the feast), he had insulted Malfoy by insinuating that he didn’t want to be in a house were so many Dark wizards had gone, like Draco Malfoy, and his new housemates looked at him like predators about to devour their prey.

They were now in their dorms, which of course were in the dungeons and therefore gloomy and chilly and ghostly green, and the only silver lining was that he’d gotten a bed beside a window that looked into the Great Lake, which ensured a bit more privacy. The bed opposite him was Malfoy’s, and the other boys had distributed the beds amongst themselves. They were only four in their dorm room, a smaller class than even dad had had.

Still in his school robes, which now held the Slytherin crest, Al sat on his bed and resisted the urge to close his curtains, which would have seemed too much like a defeat. He had always been a shy, introverted kid, and now he was about to be eaten alive. The other boys were Terrence Goyle and Erick Nott – both sons of Death Eaters. Just like Malfoy, who now refused to look at him except to glare with cold, hard grey eyes.

Goyle and Nott were staring at him in curiosity, but then Nott seemed to come to a decision, and addressed the room at large. “As all of you except Potter know –” he stumbled on Albus’ last name, but didn’t sneer it like he could have – “there is a tradition for first-year Slytherins.”

With that, he asked if anyone had a penknife, and after Malfoy grudgingly gave him one, he knelt to carve his name on his bedpost. Then he passed it onto Goyle, who did the same on his bed, and who then passed in to Malfoy, who then after hesitating gave it to Al.

“Hold it like this,” he said, showing him the best way angle to carve his name, and then retreated to his own bed, almost shutting the curtains completely. Taking a breath, he carved _Albus Severus Potter_ onto the bedpost, feeling the shame that he was the only Potter _ever_ to do this rise in him. Just as he finished – it was quite tricky, and without Malfoy’s advice it would have been trickier – the Head Boy came into their dorm.

Unlike in Gryffindor, according to his family’s stories, the prefects hadn’t given them a welcome lecture as soon as they had arrived in the Common Room, instead telling them where their dorms were and leaving it at that. Now the Head Boy began his welcoming speech, gesturing for all of them to stand in a semi-circle around him.

“Welcome to Slytherin House. Most of you have family that has already been Sorted here, so you might have heard the stories and the rules. I will not sugar-coat it – despite the Second Wizarding War –” he sneered at that, mouth twisting bitterly – “having taken place decades earlier, and some Death Eaters having been officially pardoned, Slytherin is still the most hated house in the school. Headmistress McGonagall is very biased toward her house, and though the Head of Gryffindor tries his best to be ‘impartial,’ he still won’t stand up to the Headmistress when it’s Slytherin’s word against Gryffindor’s. To the rest of the school, we are children of murderers and traitors, and we are all Dark wizards in training. They hate us, and loathe us, and almost all the teachers ignore us now.”

With that he took a breath, spelling out Albus’ doom with every word spoken.

“Especially with tonight’s Sorting –” with that he looked at Albus with something like pity, which rankled but was better than outward hatred – “I know there will be conflicts. Purebloods against the halfbloods – and contrary to popular belief, muggleborns are Sorted into Slytherin, and are treated the same, or else you will hear from me – and neutral families against those who had been involved in both wars. Children from different sides of the war. I suggest you get over whatever problems you have rather quickly. There is one golden rule in Slytherin – the entire school hates us, but we are a united front. There are no conflicts within Slytherin. Outside the Slytherin walls, we do not argue or fight with each other. Before, that was the extent of it, but now, there are no conflicts within the house either. We are all in the same boat, so we all get along. Slytherin is the house of cunning, and ambition – and in order to fulfill those things, in order to gain house points and show the school we are good for something, we work together. We are all Slytherins, and that is that. No one gets treated differently, am I clear? Thank you, and have a good night. A prefect will show you a map of the school and help you get around tomorrow. Good luck, and remember the school’s motto – _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_.”

With that, he left, leaving Albus with a lot of food for thought. He looked at Nott, and Goyle, and Malfoy, and they all nodded, understanding that they would be civil. One less thing to worry about, though Malfoy still seemed to want to ignore him.

He changed into his pyjamas, and as he was ready to finally sleep, an owl fluttered into the room, dropping a letter on his bed, and flying away before Albus could think about replying. He didn’t recognize it, so it must have been a school owl. The letter was from Rose, and it was short and succinct.

_Remember my promise, Al. Make some friends, but remember I’m there in your corner, no matter what our family says. Night, and see you tomorrow. :)_

Malfoy also received a letter, his owl regal with a beak that seemed to have a taste for fingers, judging by the quiet swearing Malfoy was doing while sucking on his bloodied fingers. Nott and Goyle both had parchment out, clearly writing to their families. Dad had told him that Goyle Senior’s sentence had been seven years, and that while Nott Senior’s grandfather had died in Azkaban a long while ago, Nott had only done two years. And Malfoy Senior had been completely pardoned, though his father was still in Azkaban. So they all had family to write to, who all expected them to be in Slytherin.

Holding Rose’s letter like a talisman, Albus decided that he was too emotionally drained to write a letter tonight, and cried himself to sleep.

The next morning was _awful_. Before heading out, the entire house had met in the common room, where other basic rules had been explained. Everyone kept on looking at Albus, but they seemed less hostile than yesterday.

The Head Boy, an Augustus Riviere, then asked him how he would like to be referred to. Al knew that most of Slytherin house had _hated_ Albus Dumbledore, and he now carried that name, so with a shaky voice he said, “Al…Al is just fine.”

With that, the stares became even less hostile, and he knew that his house would not create too much trouble for him. But it was when they stepped outside and headed toward the Great Hall that things became unbearable.

James at the Gryffindor looked thunderous, and everyone else either looked pitying, confused, angry, or just indifferent, and none except Rose caught his eye. When she saw him looking, she smiled, and touched her index finger to her eyebrow. It was a secret signal between them, and it let him know to meet her at lunch.

Headmistress McGonagall still taught Transfiguration, since no one was as good as her, and she didn’t seem to know how to treat him now that he had a snake on his robes. When doing the roll call, she even visibly sneered at Malfoy’s name, and spat out Goyle’s. It was the first class of the day, and they were with the Ravenclaws who stared warily at them. Along with Goyle, Nott, and Malfoy, there were three girls. The one who had sat with them in the boat was Lucy Zabini, and there was Charlotte Goodman (who seemed to be the only non-pureblood apart from him) and Alethia Tremaine.

The actual practical aspect of turning a match into a needle wasn’t bad – Al wasn’t able to do it during the class, but got a feel for the process and knew he would be able to do it next class – and McGonagall decided to ignore him for the time being.

Slughorn, the Potions professor, was even worse, simultaneously surprised that he was in his house, and trying to fawn over him at the same time (and only because his dad was Hary Potter). The Potions class was challenging, but Al was determined to succeed, and though his potion didn’t turn out too well, he was determined to excel in all his classes. Just because he was in _Slytherin_ did not make him evil or incompetent or a total failure. Flitwick was flustered around him, his squeaky voice even more squeakier, though the class was quite fun.

The only teacher who acted the same was Professor Longbottom, during Herbology (which was after lunch), and that hurt Al most of all. How would mum and dad take it? Lily? James had yet to speak to him, but Al had no doubt about his opinion.

Thankfully, Rose met him by the Great Lake for lunch, and they were able to have a normal conversation before he started blubbing in Rose’s shoulder. He knew that boys didn’t cry, but this situation warranted crying. Rose, however, was an angel, and she knew this neat charm that dried his face and got rid of the puffy red, and was interested when he told her about Slytherin’s golden rule.

With a bit of time to spare, Al started writing a letter to his parents, and was able to go to the owlry to send it.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_The trip to Hogwarts was quite nice. We met someone new, and had lengthy conversations on books and Hogwarts. I think Rose has met her soulmate – but I accidentally offended him, and now he hates me. The castle itself is really awesome – I can’t believe I’ll be living here for more than six months per year._

_I have news that other members of our family might have already sent ahead – I was Sorted into Slytherin. The common room is very large and fancy, and though we’re in the dungeons it’s not cold at all. My housemates are almost all children of Death Eaters, but they haven’t said anything to me yet._

_I’ll work really hard to get good marks, and see you both at Christmas. Love you, and miss you already!_

_Sincerely,_

_Albus_

By the end of the day, Al was again mentally drained, and panting from climbing all the stairs and running all over the castle. By summer, he would be super fit!

On his way to the dungeons, having lost his prefect guide and trying to remember the way, James finally made an appearance.

“You know, I was only doing it to mess with you – but then, I guess I was right, wasn’t I. You’re a slimy snake, _Albus_ , and I can’t believe we’re related. I know dad pretends that he doesn’t care, but you know he does. You clearly are nothing like him, since you’re in the house of the Dark Arts and the murderers and the blood purists. Stay away from me, and I’ll stay away from you, okay? I’m not going to be nice to a _Slytherin_.” With a sneer, James walked away, and Al was left all alone, eyes stinging.

“Nice to know where I stand,” he said miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a new chapter! Let me know what you think! And poor Al... :)


	5. The Mysteries

The worst part, Al reflected after his first week at Hogwarts, was that Slytherin house was the best thing about this entire scenario.

Most of them still didn’t like him, since his father _was_ Harry Potter, but they treated him decently, gave him book recommendations like they did for everyone else, showed him around the school and told him about secret passages even James didn’t know about, and soon the common room became a refuge. The rest of the school seemed to take it personally that a Potter had been sorted into Slytherin, and were making it quite clear.

So did his parents, it seemed. It took the entire first week for a reply to his letter to come during post in the morning, and when it did the letter was short and overly cheerful. Of course mum and dad didn’t care that he was in Slytherin – a lot of good people had come out of that house, and there was nothing wrong with being cunning and having ambition… No, nothing wrong unless your parents were Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter, who had spent their entire school careers fighting against Slytherins.

Al kept their letter in a journal Aunt Hermione had given him for his 11th birthday, but he had to work very hard to resist the urge to just tear the letter apart. Malfoy still hated him, it seemed, but it was a passive kind of hate, and Al was too swamped with homework and learning the layout of the castle to care too much.

The mysterious attacks dad had been talking about the day he’d gotten his letter kept on making the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , which Al borrowed from Nott every morning. No-one knew how it was happening, but wizards and witches, regardless of blood status and financial status, were viciously drained of magical energy and then hacked to pieces, and oftentimes the bodies became deformed. It was like dementors, but it was the magical core that was drained, and the bodies were gruesomely mutilated. It made for some pretty depressing breakfast reading, but it was important for Al to know what was going on. And reading the paper gave him an excuse not to pay attention to the Great Hall during the mornings.

Rose, whom he spent every lunch hour with, began to theorize about what caused these attacks, but if Harry Potter and the entire Auror force had no idea what it was all about, he doubted Rose could figure it out. But still he humored her, because she was his only ally and because the research she was unearthing was quite interesting.

They spent a lot of time in the library – well Rose did, but Al avoided it because all three other houses gathered there and they would point and whisper and sneer at him – and they found a lot of useful but complicated spells, and Al felt that he was as good a magizoologist as Newt Scamander.

That was because Rose theorized it wasn’t people doing the attacks – it was too savage and unpredictable for wizards or witches to have done this, and Al was inclined to agree. He’d read a lot about how Muggles committed crimes, and though wizards had wands instead of guns or fists or knives, the sheer horror of the mysterious plague of attacks was too much for it to be people. So they read up on obscure magical creatures, and that was when Al first realized the usefulness of Slytherin House.

Rose, who got into rants about things she found unfair – much like Aunt Hermione, who always meant well but sometimes went about things the wrong way and refused to stop (like her first campaign for house-elves) – kept on ranting about the terrible Ravenclaws.

“I can’t believe I _wanted_ to be Sorted into Ravenclaw! They’re terrible! They’re snobbish, but not the I-am-aristocracy-and-thus-have-a-huge-fortune way but in the you-can’t-be-smarter-than-us-lowly-Gryffindor-even-if-your-mother-is-Hermione-Granger way. I have some classes with them, and I can’t get in a question edgewise! When I want to ask one of the older Ravenclaws for their opinion or their help, they just sneer at me and turn me away! And the worst part is – they take all the books, all the time, and never give them back! The textbooks, the rare ones – all of them, gone all the time!!!!!! I have so many things to research, for class and about those attacks, and I can never get the book I want! Ugh!”

“And they’re rather bullies,” Al remarked softly. They sneered at Slytherins like they were beneath them, shunned the Hufflepuffs, and whenever he saw Ravenclaws in his year belittle members of his house – yes, Goyle’s father had been with the Death Eaters, and yes, he wasn’t as sharp and bright as Rose, but Al had a feeling that he might be smarter than he seemed, which in Slytherin was quite possible – he was reminded by the fact that Aunt Luna apparently hadn’t had such a nice Hogwarts career until she befriended dad, at which time she joined the fight against Voldemort.

“That too!” Rose sniffed, struck by the same sense of injustice her mother possessed.

The fact remained that Ravenclaws, apart from a strange first-year whose accent seemed American, were all terrible and mean (except Lorcan and Lysander as well, but that was different since they were practically family, and like most of his family, didn’t seem to know how to be around him), and because of them their research was made that much harder.

That night, still struck by Rose’s impassioned speech, and the unjustness of it all, Al suddenly had a brilliant idea. It came into his head when he settled down in his favorite chair by the fire, and looked around the majestic common room. Its walls had portraits of appropriately Slytherin-looking persons, but also quite a few bookshelves. Without even getting up, just by listening to some fifth-years by some of those shelves discussing some type of revenge (against the Gryffindors, of course), Al was able to determine that these books were Dark. That the books in his common room held the kinds of potions that had always fascinated him, held curses and rituals deemed too dangerous or perverse, and in the case of the fifth-years, perfect for some proper avenging.

Ravenclaw might have the most extensive book collection in their common room, and they might always take the books one needed from the library, but here in Slytherin there did exist all sorts of references. Useful or not, depending your family’s political and moral inclinations, and the type of problem you were facing. Of course, Al knew to stay away from the truly sadistic Dark stuff, but maybe… If the attacks were brutal and inhumane, too much so to be done by humans…and if all the rare textbooks were always gone, and thus Rose had nothing new and interesting and unknown to read…then perhaps this might be the answer! Or at least part of the answer!

A few hours after this revelation, Al had finished his homework, observed his fellow year-mates (who were either doing homework as well, plotting against the prejudiced Gryffindors, or playing chess with sets that were truly terrifying – a testament to old pureblood family heirlooms), and formulated a proper request. This was the time to use subtleness, subterfuge, and at the very least take advantage of the terrible situation he found himself in.

“Excuse me?” he asked one of the fifth-year prefects, after getting up and going to the corner where she sat reading.

“Yes?” she said, putting down her book and taking him in. In true Slytherin fashion, she nodded once, and then settled into an attentive pose. “I’m Tonia Lyra – what seems to be the matter?”

“Well… I had a question. About Slytherin house, I suppose.”

“Do go on,” she said encouragingly.

“You see, I’m only just really getting settled, and I figured I’d try to get the most out of, well, being at Hogwarts, and Sorted into Slytherin, and that led to a question I had… Those books, lining the walls. Are they public property of the house? And can anyone borrow them, or do you have to have a special permission form, like for the Restricted Section?”

With that she smiled deviously, _extremely_ glad to see that one of the new Slytherin additions were expressing curiosity and taking advantage of the available resources. And Al took advantage of these resources indeed.

It turned out that no, you needed no permission, unless one of the books were source materials in an essay or project (and the permission would come from the Head of House, of course), and as you grew older and acquired new books, it was encouraged that some of these books would be donated to the Slytherin collection, to better benefit the house and its students. All one needed to do was sign a catalogue – the name and initials, and even handwriting, could be faked, if needed, but it was wise to know which books were in circulation nor not).

So, having his information, Al retired to bed last night, and the next day, with Rose’s help, compiled an extensive list of subjects. Within the next few days, Al browsed the shelves, not borrowing anything but just familiarizing himself with the titles available. Of course, he did stay away from the truly gruesome, Dark books, the ones with covers made of human skin, full of tortures and terrible curses, but he made a note about those with creatures and monsters – especially the ones that came out of legends. If it was a creature, or many creatures, they couldn’t be too known, or else the Aurors would already have their culprits…Also, he looked at books about magical signatures, which was also useful since the attackers left no traces.

After mentally cataloguing the books that seemed relevant or particularly interesting, with some help in the form of his journal (he, after all, did not have Rose’s photographic memory), Al started to borrow books, one at a time.

He shared them with Rose, of course, out in the grounds in the early morning, or in empty classrooms at lunch – there were no rules about sharing the books with non-Slytherins, and no rules about appropriating secluded spots within the castle, and he was a Slytherin after all – and for the next week their education in obscure magical rituals and deadly creatures of legends grew in leaps and bounds. Rose, of course, was in raptures, and Al was just happy that he was learning something new, and that he was somehow able to repay Rose, who was the only reason Hogwarts was tolerable.

Of course, just as Al started to get the hang of the homework (refusing to ask Rose for help unless the circumstances were dire, because he was here to prove that he could succeed in any house, with only himself), and the sneers and the slurs and the occasional shoves and rumors became routine, Fate, or Hogwarts itself, just had to rock the boat.


	6. 2. Friends and Enemies

This little corner of the dungeons was cold, and small – just perfect to hide and catch one’s breath.

            Raphael didn’t know much about wizarding schools in general, but so far, this _Hogwarts_ had been absolute hell. Sure, his ‘year-mates’ seemed decent, apart from this Al Potter kid (he still hadn’t figured out why he’d wanted to hide his last name, and why the others took offense to him being sorted in _Slytherin_ ) who hated him because his entire family was Dark magic and prejudices and prison sentences and corruption, but the rest…

            The teachers either hated him on sight – or after they read his _name_ , anyhow – or ignored him as if he didn’t exist. And the other kids… All bloody bonkers, completely mad. He knew Ritker Street was bad, and the fact he wasn’t there no more was a good thing, but Raphael would rather the evil he’d lived with these past 11 years than the one who beat him bloody for nothing, who sneered insults he didn’t even get, who were pissed off about things he still hadn’t learnt. Who shoved and pushed and spat, and never got into trouble.

            All they saw was the face and the name – the name he hadn’t even known before August – and they all made assumptions. Except that Rose chit, who wasn’t that bad, and even said ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’ and was one of those insane always-cheerful nice-nice people. Of course, he was _very_ familiar with assumptions – but never about him being spoiled, or a ‘Dark wizard in training’ – which translated into a crazed bigoted murderer these days – or ‘always having his way.’

            The people here, apart from being absolutely mad and _discriminatory_ – a couple of weeks here, and already his vocabulary was more toff than anything else – were oblivious. Daft. They clear as hell didn’t know much about the world, or else they’d have already sussed out that for a variety of reasons, he wasn’t his father’s spitting image. You know – the accent, the first few shoddy essays bleeding red that made him out a five-year-old idiot, the lack of ‘refined manners’ some of the posh aristocratic kids in Slytherin and Ravenclaw had…

            That, and the absolute culture shock, was enough for anyone to go bloody insane. So when he could get away, he’d crawl into a small corner, breathe, play familiar music in his head – his precious iPod, battered with use, didn’t work here ‘cause of the ‘magic aura’ – and sometimes even read depressing Russian literature meant for adults. ‘Cause that way, he’d be able to wake up in the morning, address all the hatred aimed at someone innocent of all those crimes, and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

            “Excuse me?” Damn! It was the Rose girl! “Oh – Scorpius! Sorry, I was looking for Al and totally got lost in the dungeons! I don’t suppose you could help me…” Back to this new reality, then. Life was bloody hard, sometimes, even in a magic castle.


End file.
